Likethe previous knowledge of the whole within which the segments are inscribed (hence the suggested term “polyhedral”). The adjacency of the segments makes it easier to see their reciprocal relationship, but the farther apart the segments are the more significant becomes the realization of their connection. The computer cuts across unlimited adjacencies and proposes unsuspected and innumerable connections, thereby increasing immensely the power of seeing sequentiality where it is not linearly given. (2) Digital non-linearity is not only powerful; it is also demonstrable, on two counts: the universe within which the links take place must be articulated as a coherent whole, and the links themselves are traceable even though one may see only the final output. Take the example of a ceramic assemblage: through a well-developed “grammar” of attributes (typological and stratigraphic), very large quantities of sherds can be brought rapidly within a coherent conceptual construct that matches the material data excavated, and each quantity can be traced back to every single component that goes into making up the total. (3) Concretely, on way in which this can happen, in the specific case of a digital archaeological publication, is through the extensive use of hyperlinks. If a comprehensive “grammar” is in place, one that spells out the properties of the stratigraphic and typological whole (the polyhedron), then automatic tagging can be implemented that will generate unsuspected quantities of hyperlinks (up to a million for an excavation unit of 10 by 20 meters and approximately 3 meters deep). The linkages allow the user to follow inquiry paths that propose themselves as one follows one clue after the next — each remaining in memory so that each segment of the argument can be traced, making the argument properly arguable. So it is that, in the final analysis, a non-linear mode of thought does in fact emerge as valid and distinctive, and that the main use to which it can be put is indeed primarily and exquisitely digital. p Giorgio Buccellati is Professor Emeritus of Near Eastern Languages and Cultures and Director of the Mesopotamian Laboratory.
The archaeology of the Levant in North America
By Aaron A. Burke
The eminent Syro-Palestinian archaeologist, William G. Dever, was by and large correct when he proclaimed the demise of “Biblical Archaeology” more than a decade ago (1995). However, the changes that have occurred over the last three decades within what has been most often identified as SyroPalestinian archaeology cannot be regarded as the “death of a discipline” as Dever suggested. Rather these changes must be recognized as the transformation, if at times painful, of SyroPalestinian archaeology into a truly anthropological discipline
that is grounded in available historical sources, thanks predominantly to the influence of “Biblical Archaeology.” This new discipline, like its siblings Mesopotamian, Anatolian, and Egyptian archaeology, has thus come to be known by the most appropriate geographical designation, the archaeology of the Levant. By definition this region includes not only Israel, Palestine, and Jordan in the south — the region traditionally identified with Syria-Palestine, but also the Egyptian Sinai, and Lebanon, western Syria, and a small part of southern Turkey known as the ‘Amuq Valley and its tributaries in the north — thus, essentially the eastern Mediterranean between Egypt and southern Turkey. Why, though, should the term Levant now be adopted for the archaeology of this region when terms like SyriaPalestine and Canaan have been used so frequently? Although these other terms have been applied to the region, neither is historically or geographically appropriate. Syria-Palestine, on the one hand, is correctly speaking the title of a province under Roman administration of the Levant established by Hadrian in the second century AD (Millar 1993). This term also carries political overtones in the present day that, unfortunately, are overshadowed by efforts to establish a Palestinian state and thus the term has always been misleading to students. On the other hand, the most ancient term, Canaan, is equally inadequate for somewhat different reasons. Despite the fact that Canaan is attested in the Mari texts, from the middle Euphrates, as early as the eighteenth century BC, since it only seems to have referred to a geographic region roughly equivalent to the southern half of the Levant, it does not adequately represent the full geographic extent of the region’s cultures. Neither term, therefore, satisfactorily identifies the region without suggesting a specific historical context. Added to this is the fact that no other ancient geographical terms that are thus far attested, such as Egyptian Djahy or Retenu, are sufficiently geographically identified in order to be adopted. Thus, we are left with the term Levant. The term Levant came into wide currency in English during the sixteenth century to refer to all eastern Mediterranean countries from Turkey to Egypt (see Braudel 1972), though it remains an unknown entity to most people today. Perhaps for this very reason, unfettered by common preconceptions, the term has been used almost exclusively in Near Eastern archaeology to identify the region bounded by the mountains of southern Turkey to the north, the upper Euphrates and the Arabian Desert to the east, the Red Sea to the south, and the Mediterranean Sea and Pelusiac branch of the Nile to the west. While it might be thought of as the leftover strip of land between Egypt, and Mesopotamia and Anatolia, the Levant shares a number of geographic features that facilitated its cultural continuity and thus warrant its identification today by means of a single geographical term. The greatest of these features is the seismically active Great Rift Valley, which bisects the region from north to south, and has always served as an “access corridor” for the movement of man and beast alike, including trade, communication, and invasions. In a
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this discernible trend, it remains, therefore, the responsibility of those of us working within this discipline, like myself, to advance this terminology and educate the public regarding its significance. ▲
References Braudel, F. 1972 The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II. Harper & Row, New York. Dever, W. G. 1995 Death of a Discipline. Biblical Archaeology Review 21(5):50–55, 70. Millar, F. 1993 The Roman Near East, 31 BC–AD 337. Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.
Aaron Burke is an Assistant Professor of Near Eastern Cultures and Languages.
More vital than ever:The future need for archaeology
By Christopher Chippindale
The future begins now, or at most tomorrow. Yesterday, today was tomorrow. The future of archaeology must begin with archaeology now, so I start with a few observations on our cultural state as I see it now, prompted by my having flown from England to Los Angeles to give the seminar from which this essay derives. In the seat pocket on the plane, I was glad to see a favorite and strange publication, the mail-order catalogue, fat and colorful, which United Airlines gives its passengers. The strange thing to me about the Skymall catalogue is its being full of new artifacts which the world has done without happily enough for centuries, but which are now offered as essentials to fulfillment and happiness. There are miniature staircases to help your dog climb on the sofa, and then nylon covers to cope with the dog hairs that fall from the dog; there are sets of miniature landing lights, as if for an airport runway, to put by your house driveway so that Santa Claus can fly in safely on his sled. All these are presented straight-faced as if functionally advantageous — even the landing lights, since who would want Santa to crash into the shrubs? — rather than as whimsy or as contrived distractions for those with more money than things to do. Above all, then, our society is characterized by its multiplying proliferation of artifacts, in number and in range; also by pretence all have an economic and functional rationale. Since archaeology is the study of human societies by its material remains, this gives me great encouragement, even if landing lights for Santa also make my heart sink. At the same time as it is becoming larger and diverse, the range of contemporary culture is shrinking: Santa is part of
similar manner the coastal plain (though extremely narrow in Lebanon) as well as the inland desert provided secondary axes of interconnectivity from north to south. From west to east the Levant consists, therefore, of (1) a humid coastal plain (though of varying widths), (2) an inner mountain ridge, (3) the Great Rift valley, (4) a second mountain or highland ridge, as well as (5) an arid inland plateau. Aspects of the material culture of the Levant exhibit strong stylistic similarities between its various subregions during almost every archaeological period from the Neolithic to the Ottoman period which also justify its identification as a cultural and, thus, archaeological zone. Thus, it is evident that the Levant constitutes a contiguous (though not homogenous) cultural zone akin to Mesopotamia and Egypt, the continuity of which were largely shaped by their principal geographic features. Much sharper breaks are found between the archaeological assemblage of the Levant and those of Anatolia to the north, northwestern Mesopotamia to the east, and, of course, Egypt to the southwest. Because we lack, therefore, a convenient Greek term by which to identify the region — as adopted for Egypt and Mesopotamia, that is also not confused with a modern state with different boundaries (e.g., Syria), we have no recourse but to revive a medieval term, which is largely unknown to the public, to satisfy our requirements. And this, without so much deliberation by scholars, is exactly what has happened over the past 20 years, such that today we can confidently refer to our discipline as the archaeology of the Levant. In light of
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